「Redemption」
by FallaciousPanther
Summary: After the war, Micaiah asked Sothe to settle down with her. Sothe does so, at the expense of Volke, whom he loves. Betrayed by the one person whom he had ever opened up to, Volke vanishes into the shadows, as he had done so many times before. However, Sothe is unable to reconcile his feelings - remorse, longing. He leaves Micaiah, and begins his search for love. For redemption.
1. Chapter 1 - The Search Continues

_A pulse._

_Beating at the center of his world._

Paralysis slowly faded away, replacing itself with a tingling sensation. Thousands of miniscule needles, repeatedly stabbing through his arm as blood resumed its coursing through his veins.

The thief sat up, still groggy, as the memories of a fortnight ago washed over him and assaulted his unwilling consciousness. It was still dark, the only source of light being the pale blue orb hanging in the sky above, though even in the ill lighting, the fight played out before his golden eyes in perfect quality. Micaiah's tearful, angry face shimmered before him, and he pushed it away bitterly. He did not want to think about it, not for as long as he could hold it off.

Sothe, now massaging his left arm, hunched over. It hadn't taken long for him to get used to the comfortable life of 'normal' folk. In fact, just how easily he had taken to his new life unnerved him somewhat, for he valued the survival instinct borne from his time as a rogue, even if the life itself had been...well, not the most glamorous or comfortable.

But it wasn't meant to be. He was not meant for a life of comfort and relaxation. He was a thief, through and through.

Micaiah failed to understand that. Failed to understand that their marriage was a folly, and that their relationship had never been based on a mutual romantic attraction. It just wasn't designed to work that way for them.

So he left. Daein, Begnion, Gallia - it didn't matter. There was someone he needed to find, a man who was very important to him...a man who was, truly, his life. Someone he would travel to the ends of the earth to find.

Volke Forukaza was an Assassin, one of the best.

He was also Sothe's old flame.

Sothe was almost sure that he was close to catching hold of his elusive prey - it seemed as though Volke had no desire to be found, as the usual methods of contacting him didn't work. So, following a trail of rumors and whispers, Sothe carved his way through the countryside in an attempt to find his old lover.

It had been no easy task, and in some ways, it had been more stressful than even the war. When last he and Volke had parted, it hadn't been on good terms.

Guilt riddled the young man like a volley of poisoned arrows as he once again unwillingly recalled a moment he would rather forget. The moment when he, Sothe, had turned his back on Volke.

Assassins often go their whole lives without opening up to anyone, for letting down their guard is the deadliest thing they can possibly do. Should one have your heart, they also have you, completely and utterly. Yet Volke had let down his guard, against his better judgement, and now...

Now Sothe could only pray that Volke would forgive him.

* * *

Okay, so...first chapter of what will hopefully be a good story. Sorry that it's so short!

This is a gift to the epic GamberDragon.


	2. Chapter 2 - Message in a Bottle

It had begun to rain. Drop after frozen drop pelted the Assassin's back, soaking through to his skin, but right now, he could care less. What mattered now was that he was hidden properly. They had little chance of finding him here, masked by rock faces. It kept him well concealed, from comrades and enemies alike.

But he knew he couldn't stay long. What made his abilities to vanish so impressive was not solely the ability to blend into the shade, but also being able to move from place to place without being seen or heard. Complete and total dexterity.

Not unlike Sothe's chosen profession.

Volke's mouth thinned at the thought of his old lover. He didn't want to think about Sothe. It was bad enough when dreams, vivid and unbidden, haunted his subconscious mind. It pained him to remember what he once had - what he had now lost. He didn't need to remember in his waking hours as well.

He strived for that self control years of training and living on the road had given him. He craved it. He needed it desperately. But it was nowhere to be found. It wasn't a tangible object he could grasp and manipulate to do his bidding.

This frustrated him. It made him - Goddess forbid he admit it - irritable, irrational. As such, it also meant he was prone to making mistakes. And Volke Forukaza was a man who couldn't afford even the slightest slip-up, for one error in judgement or in act may spell defeat, or even death.

Volke continued to brood for several long moments, until voices sucked him out of his reverie.

"That wench..."

"There ain't no way we're goin' t' find him. Graspin' at stones-"

"Straws, you fool."

"Whatever!"

As he crept forward, Volke's feet met the hard ground without making even the slightest sound. He peered casually out into the rain - a translucent, hazy wall, which hindered visibility. His gauntleted hand drifted towards his dagger as the men, who numbered six, predictably turned toward the cave in which the assassin lurked. It appeared they were one of _her_ special units, put together just to capture him.

"The job be damned. I'm cold, wet, and hungry. We'll camp there for the night." Though the leader of the search party could not see Volke, his finger aligned with the hidden man's face perfectly.

Volke stepped out of the way, near the mouth of the cave, as the would-be hunters approached. Silently, he drew his knife.

It was time to send the woman a message.

* * *

The skies were overcast. Thunder roared distantly, threatening a storm. The sky's many shades of grey cast a similarly color-less blanket over the town and those who walked its streets.

Regardless, it was still lively. As the hour grew long and the shadows darkened, townsfolk bustled from one market stand to another, eager to finish their shopping before the possible weather was upon them.

Sothe tread the streets, feeling a distance between himself and everyone else - a feeling that he didn't belong, as people followed him with their eyes, as if expecting him to suddenly lash out and attack.

"Is he with the other group? For the reward?"

"Has to be."

"All those knives..."

Sothe turned to locate the owners of the voices, but it was nigh impossible in the crowded town square. Something else did catch his eye, however. Every which way he looked, there was a similar stretch of parchment adorning a wall, a lamp post, or a sign. His curiosity piquing, Sothe started to one of the notices, many eyes following him.

_TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN_

_The assassin, Volke Forukaza, is wanted on charges of high treason and the murder an elected official of Begnion. When last seen, the traitor was wearing dark, worn leather garments, boots, a red scarf and mask. He has dark hair and scarlet eyes._

_The reward is 500,000,000 gold alive. 250,000,000 if dead._

A mixture of excitement and frustration bubbled in Sothe's chest, welling up and leaving a burning sensation in his throat.

Volke was alive. But given this new information, he could be anywhere, possibly not even in Begnion anymore. Volke moved quickly and swiftly, and there was no telling what he was up to.

"Another contender, eh?"

Someone's hand landed roughly on Sothe's shoulder, jerking his lithe frame back. Sothe turned to face its owner, amber eyes cool as anything.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sothe said coldly.

"Ha ha...Don't give me that. You want the reward on that killer's head." It was then that Sothe realized his must have been the "other group" the crowd had been whispering about; they were all armed to the teeth.

"Out of my way. I don't have time for this," The thief muttered, attempting to push past the four troublemakers and their boss. They pushed him back into the wall roughly, and Sothe's temper flared. It was obvious they were looking to fight.

Okay, fine.

"If you're hell bent on fighting, we'll do it elsewhere," Sothe said cooly. "Don't want everyone here to see you lose."

"You-" The older man sputtered, eyes bulging and spittle making its way down his chin. "I'll show you that I, Ari, the mighty Eagle, am not to be fooled with!" He lunged forward, but Sothe easily sidestepped and watched with amusement as Ari threw his hands out to prevent butting heads with the wall.

"The eagle had its wings clipped, ne?" For once, Sothe was thoroughly enjoying this. He needed to let loose, let out some of his stress. This overzealous oaf would be a good way to do so. "Or have you always been this clumsy?"

At that, the other four made to step forward, before their leader shouted them down. "Out of my way! The little shit belongs to m-"

He was promptly cut off as Sothe's knee smashed directly into his face. Blood spurted from what remained of the man's nose as he keeled back, unable even to scream. He lay there, emitting muffled whimpers as he clutched his face. Sothe landed easily on his feet, casting a final glance back at Ari's lackeys, who took a step back from the youth's amber glare. Then, without a word, he turned and left the scene.

First, rest. Tomorrow, he had to get moving.

* * *

A/N. So...I kind of struggled to write this, fighting an art/writer's block. Hopefully it doesn't feel too forced. I had a tiny bit of inspiration, so I tried to take that inspiration and do something with it...I went with what I had. Enjoy!


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